


Stop being an asshat!

by millygal



Series: Zombies SUCK [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Crack, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nurse Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Zombies are bad - Dean in nurse mode is a nightmare!





	Stop being an asshat!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpankedbySpike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpankedbySpike/gifts), [JJ1564](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ1564/gifts).



> Silliness and some hurt/comfort cavity warning lovey-ness ;) spankedbyspike put up a huge list of prompts she'd worked out for herself, and then told us we could play with them if we liked. I picked, "Do Zombies count as wildlife?" and then ended up fulfilling another one "Can I just get a hug?" as a sequel to that! I cannot express enough how much I appreciate jj1564's beta work lately and her continued pompom waving! Thank you bb!!! ♥x♥
> 
> Yes that IS a Buffy Ref ;)

Dean forces his hands behind Sam’s back and huffs a laugh at his brother’s indignant whining. “Sam, stop bein’ a bloody woman! You’re hurt, I’m helpin’. Deal with it.”

Sam sucks in a breath and holds it, attempting to keep a check on his temper. “Dean, I swear to Chuck I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t stop fussing around me.”

Snorting loudly at Sam’s baseless threats, Dean continues to plump and fluff his pillows. “Sammy, **when** that ankle’s all healed _maybe_ I’ll worry about you usin’ it to kick me, but until then, wind your neck in, yeah?”

There are two very valid reasons that Dean’s thoroughly enjoying taking care of Sam; one - this is payback for all those horrendous weeks he himself spent holed up in Rufus’ cabin with a damned cast on his leg and Sam was able to jaunt off out in the Impala whenever he liked. Two - Sam rarely allows Dean to look after him any more. He’s in his thirties and quite capable of tying his own shoes, but some days Dean just _wants_ to do stuff for him.

Immobile and incapable of escape, Sam’s a captive audience for Dean’s ministrations and doesn’t the older Winchester just **love** it? “Chicken and stars?”

Sam’s desperate not to encourage Dean’s obsession with babying him, but the mention of his favourite cure-all soup drags a stupidly large smile and a moan from his mouth. “Whatever.”

Dean rolls his eyes and pats Sam on the knee. “Okay, slugger. I’ll make some for me, and you can share, deal?”

“Patronising dick. I hate you.”

“You love me, stop bein’ such a pain in my ass.”

“You like me being a pain in your ass. “

“Until you can stand up without wincin’ there will be **no** ass pain, got it?”

Sam huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re such a romantic, I don’t need to be able to stand on my feet, just throw them over your shoulders.”

Dean tries really hard not to allow that picture any purchase in his imagination, but he finds himself squirming and chewing on his bottom lip, much to Sam’s amusement. “Stop it. Just, take the help and stop complainin’, okay?”

“Damned stupid fucking zombies.”

“You wanted the picnic.”

“Shut up!”

**********************

Sam desperately needs a piss but he’s fucked if he’s gonna ask Dean for help.

Instead of waking his sleeping brother, Sam huffs and puffs and pulls himself upright, peering warily over his shoulder at Dean who’s snoring softly and drooling. “If only you knew how damned cute you really are.”

Bracing for the pain, Sam uses the furniture to drag himself off the mattress. Hand walking across the room, hopping and hoping he’s not being loud enough to disturb Dean, Sam finally makes it to their ensuite only to fall sideways and bash his elbow into the doorframe. “FUCK IT - crap.”

Dean’s clearly enjoying whatever he’s dreaming about because he doesn’t stir, thankfully, but Sam’s fully aware if he’s caught moving alone Dean’s gonna tan his hide. “Come on Winchester, get it together, you just need a pee, that’s all.”

Sam manages to do what he needs, which is ridiculously hard with only one working foot and all his concentration focused on not falling on his ass, but he’s feeling rather smug when he spins on his one working leg and feels himself toppling over. “SHIT!”

Sam hits the sink on the way down, smashing his teeth into his lower lip and taking a chunk out of his cheek. The slowly oozing blood snaking down his chin does nothing for Sam’s complete lack of dignity and he’s in the process of trying to sit up when Dean comes barreling into the bathroom.

“What the FUCK are you doin’?!”

The fury in Dean’s eyes is only matched by the loud heaving breaths he’s taking as he crouches down in front of his brother and wags a finger in his bright red face. “Dude, seriously? You’re that stubborn you couldn’t wake me? Come on.”

Dean slides his arms beneath Sam’s and hauls his brother onto his feet, causing the younger man to cry out in pain.

“FUCK!”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Sammy. Why have you gotta be such a fucking terrible patient, is my attention that bad?!”

Sam knows he’s being stupid but the pride, or lack thereof, he’s been clinging to since Dean **carried** him into the Bunker, is rapidly disintegrating. “Please. Let me do it.”

Dean knows when to be hands on and when to back the fuck off and the pleading tone in Sam’s voice tells him if he pushes he’ll be only be making the situation worse. “Fine, fine, you do it, but once you’re in bed we’re cleaning you up, got it?”

Dean waits for Sam to nod and steady himself against the wall then steps away, walking half a step behind him, hands outstretched just in case. “Dude, speed it up, would you! Snails move faster.”

Sam’s soft chuckle tells Dean he’s done the right thing but his instincts are all screaming at him to lift Sam into his arms and take the final ten agonizing steps to the bed.

Sam finally makes it to the mattresses - dropping onto like a stone in a pond - and heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“No problem, asshat. Shunt over, we’re gonna have to do something with that cheek and lip.”

Sam’s perfectly fine with Dean cleaning him up after being allowed to make his own way back to bed. That small nod to his capabilities has assuaged some of the younger man’s annoyance at having to rely so heavily on his brother. “Yeah yeah, whatever, just don’t muck up my pretty face.”

Dean disappears for a minute after throwing a sarcastic comment at Sam. “You can’t muck up what’s already fucked up.”

Sam stretches out on the bed and snorts at Dean who’s clearly grabbing everything he can possibly use to bathe him where he lays. “Ha-fucking-ha, dick.”

Dean returns carrying a bowl full of hot water and a flannel. Sitting down next to Sam he begins gently wiping away slowly drying blood from his brother’s pale skin, wincing every time he presses too hard. “Sorry, man. You okay?”

Sam sucks on his bottom lip and instantly regrets it. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Shocker. That’s what happens when you faceplant a basin.”

Sam closes his eyes and scoots down the bed and enjoys the feel of Dean’s soft touch as he methodically removes all traces of blood from his face.

No matter how hurt Sam is, touching him like this always forces a very visceral reaction from Dean’s body, but he’s happy to live with the frustration as he watches his little brother drift off into contented sleep. “If only you knew how damned cute you really are.”

***********

Sam slowly slides his foot into his boot and braces for the expected pain, but there’s none. His newly knitted bones are quite capable of taking his weight and he almost does a dance. It’s been six weeks of sitting on his ass and not being able to move without Dean’s steady shoulders to lean on, and right now he could run a marathon with the amount of adrenaline coursing his system. “Dean, DEAN!”

Dean comes sprinting into the War Room and is met with the sight of Sam jumping up and down like he’s popping bubble-wrap and finds himself laughing along with his brother. “So, all in working order, huh?”

“You know it! Hey, Dean, come here.”

Sam reaches out and snatches at Dean’s outstretched hands, dragging him in close and wrapping him in the strong frame of his arms.

Dean’s nose is squashed painfully against Sam’s shoulder and he can’t breathe properly, but he’s not bothered when the sound of Sam’s laughter is like the most beautiful music ringing in his ears. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“I just wanted a hug. Dean - Thank you.”

“Welcome, by the way, it’s your turn to cook dinner tonight. Six weeks on Sam-duty means I don’t have to lift a finger for a month. Got it?”

“Got it. Asshat.”

 

 

Fin.


End file.
